


Lonely is the night

by masha (masha_l)



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masha_l/pseuds/masha
Summary: 1) Ok, but I'm basing myself on the fictional characters, no in the real persons so, no.2) I'm not a native english speaker, sorry about that3) It's my very first time. With this guys and publishing something. So if I can do it, you surelly can make it better.4) Let me know if I should keep on or quit.





	1. Monsters of the night

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Ok, but I'm basing myself on the fictional characters, no in the real persons so, no.  
> 2) I'm not a native english speaker, sorry about that  
> 3) It's my very first time. With this guys and publishing something. So if I can do it, you surelly can make it better.  
> 4) Let me know if I should keep on or quit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Ok, but I'm basing myself on the fictional characters, no in the real persons so, no.  
> 2) I'm not a native english speaker, sorry about that  
> 3) It's my very first time. With this guys and publishing something. So if I can do it, you surelly can make it better.  
> 4) Let me know if I should keep on or quit.

During the day he feels secure. He’s the big brain filled with lots of work, chemicals and complex equations that need to be resolved. Even if there are other brilliant minds like his, he’s in his comfort zone; hidden behind his intellect, protected by science and his ideals of a better world.

During the day, comrade Valery Legasov serves the soviet union.

But it’s the thought of going back home what makes him weak and tiny.

At night, when the work is done and the theory is no longer necessary, when everyone is busy having a life and sharing moments with their loved ones, That's when the darkness takes over his heart, compressing it, chocking it, slowing down his inner clock.

There's nobody at home to ask about the day. Nobody at home to share his frustrations, nobody at home to care about his achievements. Maybe only his cat, that sometimes seems to belong to this house for some unwritten agreement. A single bed. The covers all over the place. Dirty dishes waiting for a lovely home sense to clean them up, or even, to complain about their existence. A dark and sad silence covering his nights, when the only reassurance of his life comes from the people passing by on the street or the soft muffled noise of Sasha pawns walking around the house.

The irony of the external peace is that deep inside his brain, perturbing forces hit him inside his head like a hammer against metal the moment he rests his head against his pillow. Thoughts full of sadness, regrets and loneliness resonate against every cell in his body. The pain comes from inside, and the only way to deal with it is to let it devour him little by little, day by day.

_“Why don’t you no longer smile, comrade Legasov? “ What happened in your life to make you such an empty human being?”_

And as much as it hurts, this is his real he.

A lonely man walking through the long path of life, waiting until death comes from him to revise his life and finally understand the point where his life went to misery. At least here by his own, he can allow a tear or two to fall down once in a while, although he knows that at the end that will only bring him more shame because he's not even worth of following what a man is supposed to be.

Between sadness, regrets, and melancholy, he falls asleep. Buried into the dangerous terrains of the night. A man walking alone too unsure of his own willing power to make any radical decision about his life.

-

The rise of a new day brings him an excuse to consider himself a braver man, brave enough to survive another night. The routine and the tasks pending for the day help to follow his facade, get ready to work and fit again his role in the bigger project. The night was left behind and the burning guilt and sorrow are now replaced by the exemplary Soviet Comrade spirit.

_“I’m part of something bigger than myself”_

He packs his stuff, goes to the institute and continues his alive charade. Day after day, finding the balance between throwing everything away and keep on like a good soldier.

-

The 27th of April of 1986 wasn’t going to be much different.

The sound of the phone ringing woke him up. Somebody of the Party, talking about an accident in a power plant who start asking questions before his sleepy form has time to process the importance with this business should be treated. But he’s a smart man, and before continue affirming his knowledge, he has to say something.

Of course, this brave man doesn’t give a shit about he has to say. “The situation is under control… a minor fire… you will travel to a conference with the General Secretary and only answer questions if they arise”

Trying again, he asks for apologies for raising the expected questions of a professional on the subject but no time has left, as this general of some big title has already hung up on him.

_“Well, fuck you for screwing up my Saturday.”_


	2. Monsters of the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Ok, but I'm basing myself on the fictional characters, no in the real persons so, no.  
> 2) I'm not a native english speaker, sorry about that  
> 3) It's my very first time. With this guys and publishing something. So if I can do it, you surelly can make it better.  
> 4) Let me know if I should keep on or quit.

In another context would be a memorable experience to be at the Kremlin Palace. Although the word he would use to describe it right now is not “memorable” it’s still quite a beautiful place. Perfect white all over the place, impressive columns rising to the roof, and a red carpet extended all over the hallway. 

Right in front of him, a secretary desk blocking the access to the main room where the committee is discussing the situation. 

Still, without a clear picture of what’s happening here, he’s waiting behind the door, making background noise while he smokes a cigarette. The waiting is annoying, but that’s how things work around here.

Soon the female secretary approaches him, a report of the situation. Of course, is full of stuff that makes it sound like a minor incident, but Legasov can see right through this storytelling and knows good enough the Soviet system to identify that “controlled” means “complete chaos”. 

_ “Why am I here if they already know what they’re going to say?”  _

The secretary finally lets him in. And something in that second where Valery entered the room… make the time freeze. He quickly recognized Boris Shcherbina, it was almost impossible not to do so. Even in a room full of Party ministers and secretaries, this man was all about hard lines and protocols. The loathing was heavy on Valery’s stomach

_ “So this is the bureaucrat Party man who is most interested in somebody validating their ideas than in the real facts. The one that keeps me so he has a book worm to present to his class?” _

The meeting goes by while none of the presents seem to realize the problem they’re facing. So when Gorbachev decides to dismiss the meeting, something inside Legasov exploded. After years of being an obedient comrade, something in his chest burned like fuel. It might have been his responsibility to science, yes, but also the repressed anger and disgust he has for this kind of misinformation. He has now the chance to prove his word mattered outside from the institute, and God helps anyone who is going to stop him from speaking.

Everyone when silent while he expressed his opinion so when the adrenaline went down… he was Valery Legasov once again. His inability make him realize he was talking to the most powerful people of the Party. He, a single unknown soul, confronting his own life of silence in front of the most powerful people of the Party.

  
  


\---

Boris is a man of the Party. He has been on this political shit for too long… He knows his wats in and ou. When to push. When to stop. So this was going to be easy…

A couple of idiots on the other side of the country made a mess and disrupted his well-cared routine. He personally will secure the situation. He’s in charge…

So when the meeting goes as expected, there wasn’t much to say. 

_ “Shcherbina, you did it again and now go, you will be fully in charge of this” _

The meeting was about to be finished until this nobody starts to say a lot of nonsense about a rock.

Seeing his power in danger, his first instinct is to shut this bad example of a man. 

He already warned this guy about having his mouth shut, but some people just don’t understand. How can somebody be so stupid enough to talk like that, challenging his authority in front of all the committee?

But he’s smarter than that. He will remain peacefully on the exterior and consume this man inside out when the chance is given. With the best-faked camaraderie, he presents the impertinent to the rest.

_ “Another lunatic we will need to shut down if he doesn’t learn to behave” _

But his plan fails. Gorbachev actually listens to the idioticity, humiliating him even more, ordering to travel to the place itself, Chernobyl.

\--

Yes… it was all about a fire. A fire of loath and humiliation that consumes Shcherbina heart and his Party reputation, but there was another fire burning inside the heart of a lonely man, whos hidden bravery made him feel alive, even in the worst scenario possible.

And while Europe and the Soviet Union were dealing with the consequences of the silence, there were two men with their own conflicts and perspectives, crashing so hard that threaten to provoke a bigger disaster.

Just as the radiation you can’t see it, you can’t smell it, but in the density of the air, this two old man were projecting so much tension for anyone to fell something was about to happen.


	3. A warning sign

Valery...was a lonely man. Not now, not here, at Chernobyl, but his whole life. Love… love was never on the plans of the goodness who designed his life. He did have illusions and fantasies, yes. Moments where something seemed to happen… but not. Only illusions. And after a lifetime of living this way, he knows his remaining 5 years will be as miserable as how they have been. 

But that’s maybe the only good thing this disaster brought to his life. So many critical choices, so many lives at stake. Everything was about to collapse. There was no time for darkness, for sorrow, for self-pity and even less for maters of the past. At least here he had something close to a colleague. 

The relationship with Shcherbina had been improving, since the helicopter incident and later his defense against Bryukhanov and Fomin, they seemed to be working better, mostly because the brave Valery of the meeting room was just a sparkle of something that couldn’t give itself the place it needed. Like it or not, Shcherbina was his ally on all this mess and they needed to make it work.

But were in those late nights moments that insomnia keep both awake that they could really appreciate his co-working efforts. And from time to time… they even could say they spent a good time in their company.

Valery was on one of these nights when time stopped, and suddenly he started to realize the smallest things in the room, like the cigarette he has in his mouth, was hanging there, forgotten. And also, that his mind has stopped making numbers and suppositions. That his eyes were lost, contemplating the other side of the room. 

Casually, Boris was on that corner of the room, scrabbing papers. From Valery’s point of view, he looked almost peaceful. One of those tiny glasses of vodka half empty, forgotten by his side.

Some time passed, his cigarette staying stubbornly on the verge on his mouth, the heat already burning the filter. In his trance, he was able to notice how something knock very softly on his chest, almost changing his heartbeat pace. It was quite a nice feeling. Like if time stopped and he was suspended on the air.

In the middle of that blissful moment, Boris raised his look from his mess of papers.

-what?-he asked in his characteristic deep tone, but with a much more amount of tiredness

-Not...nothing, nothing-Valery rushed to respond, being ripped apart from his daydream. He quickly turned back his attention to whatever was on his desk, cursing himself for how ridiculously stupid he might have looked like. 

_ “Bet I’m even blushing… but why for? What was that anyway?” _

\- No… tell me. Is there any new problem? We need more men?- Boris has risen from his chair and was slowly approaching him, while Valery tried desperately to find some paper that could put in Boris' face and discuss it to distract them both.

But Boris was now by his side. He rested a hand on his shoulder, to get a better look at whatever document Valery was looking. He had to bend a little bit, as Valory was sitting and he was too tall to see from his standing point.

Tell me what you need- he said in that deep, rich tone. It wasn’t particularly gentle, but for Boris standards were just like a careless whisper.

It felt like a thunderstorm in the distance. Almost relaxing. But whatever the tone was, it sent pleasure shivers trough Valery’s spine and a heavy load to his stomach.

He parted his lips almost unconsciously while he only seemed to make focus on Boris hand heat against his shoulder. It burned nicely, like the sun in your face on a chilly autumn afternoon. Pleasurable and comfy.

In face of the lack of response, Boris tone became lower, worried

-Valera? Are you alright?- he asked while squeezing his shoulder.

His cigarette finally gave up and fell from his mouth, while Valery clumsily tried to get rid of it in case it burned anything important.

The absurd of the situation amused Boris, who let out a soft laugh, while a mortified Valery put in order his papers and his cell brains.

\- Noth...  nothing is happening… just need to… ah… need to rest-his response, coming in short puffs of air, seemed to worsen the situation.

He excused himself and went out to catch some air. He collapsed in an abandoned bench, near the hotel. His head in his hands, rubbing his eyes frantically, trying to recover from his delusional state. His heart was racing, his mind numbed, his hand trembling, his sight blurry.

“Radiation effects… fuck, I’ll die before solving this”

The breeze of the night seemed to calm him down. When he was confident enough of his eyes, he raised his view to the sky. The darkness and abandon of the city left him to appreciate the stars, even though the contaminated soft clouds.

But like that time in Gorbachev's office, something has changed. He had no idea what happened but something inside him melted and created something very dangerous and poisoning.

He kept on staring the partially cloudy sky. Maybe the black of the night could give him some kind of answer to this insanity.


	4. Core meltdown

Chernobyl was another world. Another time, another universe. 

Ever since the evacuation, it felt like some kind of inferno, full of dead and imaginable dangers.

But as the rest of the world looked horrified and expected the worst, Valery can’t help but feel an immense sense of selfless. Because the horrors in which he’s working for took him away from the desperation and loneliness that his ordinary life kept for him.

Chernobyl is another universe, where his mind is at work 100% of the time when the days and nights melt together. Were frustration and desitions keep him alive. 

He’s alive in this death sentence. He’s no longer lonely. He has a reason to speak and somebody who attends his need to be heard. Even if not all the decisions were taken as he wanted, he’s still there, being part of it. 

Boris hears him. When he proposes a new problem or a new costly solution. When there’re good news or bad news. Boris. Boris is there to listen to him.

His presence had become a reassurance of his own voice and bravery, as well as a nice distraction of the everyday tragedies.

He finds these moments alone amusing and terrific. And although the mere thought of a fantasy fills him with a terror of being discovered, he does allow these moments to smile. To feel alive.

Of course, the temptation is too big. The power that Boris emanates, the piercing looks he has… this man is not another human being.

Like the miners, he can’t see through the deepest darkness, so it’s just a matter of time until he finds out what’s going inside his head when they’re together. 

But… screw it all. It’s nothing against nothing. Nothing to gain, nothing to lose.

He has grown from that idealist science man to something braver. Chernobyl hasn’t only affected his human system, but also his inner personality.

So he will allow it. He will enjoy the presence of Boris, he will look down when his eyes pierce him and deal with the guilt and the stress of these fantasies later.

Because for each inch of enjoyment, there are hours of guilt and nervousness that are also consuming his body. But what’s a man supposed to do? Completely reject his fantasies, or live with the burden of being discovered? 

Questions that filter in his mind, cigarette after cigarette, as they had the ability to consume the unpleasant effects of being alive.

-I can no longer do this Boris…- he said on one of those silent, private nights.

\- What exactly Valera?

_ “Yeah… what exactly… Valera?” _

There’s something wrong about the way he pronounces his name. Is too intimate, even for the friendship they have built so far.

He rests his back against the wall and raises his head to the ceiling

-This…- Chernobyl. The deaths. The problems. You.

The ceiling doesn’t seem to provide words or any kind of civilized answer, but it’s calm enough to steady his nerves. His Adam's apple jumps up and down as he swallows his honest answers.

In a sudden movement, Boris is now in front of him, keeping his distance, but looking at him directly into his eyes. Penetrating. Scanning. Reading.

Valery’s heart beats as uncontrollably, and all his instincts are screaming he’s in danger. Nothing, not even that damn helicopter ride had him on this state of alarm. 

While he fights to shut down the chaos on his mind, his arm wants to touch him. To feel if Boris is real or if this is all an intoxicating dream. 

Still, he can’t break his stare. They’re fixed into each other's eyes, transferring tons of information that Valory isn’t sure wanted to be transferred in the first place.

Without breaking eye contact, Boris opens his mouth. Just a little bit, his lips part and his chest fill with air as if he’s about to say something.

Valery body betrays him, licking his lips, preparing himself to something. Some kind of survival instinct that also guides his eyes to the closest exit.

The eye spell might have been broken, but he’s still not free. The tension on the air doesn’t allow him to scape. There's also Boris hand, pinning him against the wall.

-No-he says, firmly. Both hands now on his shoulders. Trapped.

In a last futile try to scape, he looks up to the ceiling again, but Boris scent, his aftershave, his sweat, and cigarette perfume overrides his last functions, his systems fail and his eyes close.

Exposed neck. Totally abandoned. Waiting for the ultimate death.

Boris' hands start to move up, caressing the sides of Valery’s neck. His touch creating a fire path that will be impossible to extinguish.

His hands finally stop to cup either of the inner sides of the mouth, and Valery can now feel Boris breath against his lips.

No distance left to run.

Boris lips finally press themselves against his own. No hesitation. Demanding. Establishing Valery as the prey under the predator.

Valery relaxes into the kiss, parting his lips and pushing his tongue tips to taste Boris' lips. That full flavor, a mix of bitterness, vodka, and cigarettes. The most delicious flavor he had ever tasted in his whole life.

Boris pressed him harder against the wall, rising up his head for a better angle. Devouring him with passion and fearlessness.

_ “This will teach you, Valera” _

Valery was completely lost in the exchange. Submerged in complete pleasure, one like he never knew before. He opened his mouth a little bit more, just enough to catch Boris inferior lip and press his crooked teeth against it.

The pressure of the situation could no longer be contained. One second of distance to catch a breath was needed, but eyes lock again, requesting permission for more. 

Valery’s eyes were burning with desire, and suddenly that brave man who knows how to make himself heard was back, daring Boris to touch him once again, and brake loose hell itself.

Boris looked dumb fooled. Surprised. Expectant. The different facets of his Valera never seemed to stop surprising him. The predator was now the prey of the most innocent animal on Earth.

Valery, without breaking eye contact, exhales a desperate and needy breath on the Boris wet lips.

And that’s all Boris needs to start touch everywhere, kiss, bit and attack his exposed neck. Boris will devour him and taste every single square of flesh that the clothes left behind and secure that this lonely soul will never wander alone in this dangerous terrains.


	5. How to disappear completely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Ok, but I'm basing myself on the fictional characters, no in the real persons so, no.  
> 2) I'm not a native english speaker, sorry about that  
> 3) It's my very first time. With this guys and publishing something. So if I can do it, you surelly can make it better.  
> 4) Let me know if I should keep on or quit.

_ “I’m not here” _

That there, the one cleaning the desk after another shift. That there, feeding his cat… that’s not Valery Legasov

His soul was left at Chernobyl. He is now a ghost, walking through walls, a grey figure, incapable of impregnating his existence in this world any longer.

His name was forgotten. His existence, justified by papers. Even his apartment had known better days. Days that after all, keep him alive and somewhat

But this isn’t actually Valery Legasov apartment. Because everything is different now. Because he proved to himself that he no longer had to suffer alone. Because he found a friend, he found people eager to listen to him, because he found somebody to love. And somebody who loved him back.

Somebody who didn’t hesitate in any way to defend him. A man who did more than he could… that almost lost himself trying to help him… but that he was now also dying. 

 

So many hours passed from the last touch, the last kiss, the last taste of Boris' lips, that could have been even more than the 5 years that the science and the goodness planned for them.

Their possible happiness was torn from them. Maybe because it was never meant to exist. 

_ “What would have been like, Valera?” _

And he wants to rip the last remaining hair from his head, because he will no longer able to answer that question, and also, what would it matter? KGB will destroy them even if everything went right.

The memories once again don’t have space in this reality. The sweet moments created even in the worst of times, doesn’t help now to cover the pain. Don’t do enough to cover the lack of his shadow, or reproduce the exact tone of his voice, or the warm of his body.

The KGB complied to perfection what he promised. They took away his life. 

And Valery cursed himself once more bececause… yes, that was so fucking easy to do.

_ “Just divide me from what had given me a glimpse of life, and the rest will be done” _

A practical and clean assassination of a man.

And yes, he has condemned so many others to their death that, in the end, he deserved this. His father would be ashamed of him. His colleagues. And even staying as a hero… he’ll be living a constant lie. The lie he lived in Chernobyl. 

And like he said, every lie we tell incurs a debt to the truth and sooner or later, the debt is paid. Now it’s his turn.

At first, he was angry, tried to do something, to rebel, use his last strengths to reach him but… there wasn’t really anyway. This was real life. There were nowhere else to run.

The tears were still fresh on his cheeks. From time to time, he took the job to record those days, with precise details so everyone knew, that all his sacrifice, all he lost, was because of a reason. A more noble reason than just his happiness or his peace.

But what hurt the most was the forbidden goodbyes. 

He knew, by fact, that Boris knew how much he meant to him. That he loved him more. But after a short lifetime fighting together, the last love gesture he could leave behind to him was a timid squeeze of his hand,   to reassure him he will be by his side as long as life still allowed them.

But that was also a lie. And now there are much of those to pay for.

 

_ “Was…. he still alive?”  _

No, better not know. Better think he left this unfair word. Better know that he might have another chance in another reality, with other circumstances.

His ghostly image, taking care of the details. The arrangement with his cat for a few more days… but no. Nothing important was about to happen. He wasn’t part of this world anyway.

He climbed the chair one minute before he planned. He put his coat and took a last view of the precious moments while smoking his last cigarette.

He closed his eyes trying very hard to focus on those precious moments. So hard that might even allow him to rest there.

 

The chair hit the ground and the quiet sound of the rope was all left behind of his full story.


End file.
